New Orleans fans second-line to resurrected Pancho's Mexican Buffet

Courtesy of Pancho's Mexican Buffet Pancho's Mexican Buffet opened its doors to the public at the end of March after a three-year absence from New Orleans.

"Build it, and they will come" is a time-honored philosophy that not always holds true, especially when it comes to restaurants.

But when Pancho's Mexican Buffet opened its doors to the public at the end of March after a three-year absence, it didn't take long for the word to get out or for long lines to form. The legions of Pancho's fans who for years went to the Veterans Memorial Boulevard location, and missed their flautas and frijoles, came out of their haciendas in droves.

Not only did they come, they keep coming, day after day, night after night.

"It looks recession-proof to me," said customer John Constantino, who grew up in Metairie. "It was always a popular place. It's reasonable. We went there for birthdays. People loved it."

No doubt. There was even a Web site recalling fond memories of the old place.

Those standing in the long lines in the parking lot to get into the new Pancho's Mexican Buffet on Labarre Road near Airline Drive pass the time remembering the old Pancho's on Veterans, raising the flag on the table for more food, and fantasizing about what they're going to load up their plates with when they get inside.

Three chile rellenos with cheese? Flautas? Tamales? Taquitos? Two beef enchiladas or one of each enchilada? Guacamole tostada? Taco salad? A dozen sopapillas? Rice and beans? Cheese and pico de gallo on top of everything?

All of the above?

One meal could burn a week of Weight Watchers points.

On the outside of the building, in very large red letters, it says: SUPER BUFFET. And that's what you do at an all-you-can-eat chow line -- load up -- and reminisce about the last time you pigged out at the Pancho's on Veterans (a victim of Hurricane Katrina) or the one in Chalmette that, if memory serves, became a Western saloon.

"They probably thought they were going to do well," said Constantino, standing in yet another line outside of the restaurant, "but not this well."

Manager Herman Young, a 26-year Pancho's employee who spent four years at the old Veterans location, agreed.

Courtesy of Pancho's Mexican Buffet Outside of the new Pancho's building, in very large red letters, it says: SUPER BUFFET. And that's what you do at an all-you-can-eat chow line -- load up -- and reminisce about the last time you pigged out at the Pancho's on Veterans (a victim of Hurricane Katrina) or the one in Chalmette.

"No, we didn't expect it," he said of the seemingly never-ending lines. "It's been a great and pleasant surprise."

This is hard to believe, but customers start lining up for lunch between 9:45 and 10 a.m., he said. Doors open at 10:30. Tamales tossing in your tummy by 11 -- how good can it get? At 2:20 p.m. on a recent weekday, there still was a line outside.

Customers talk about missing the opportunity to "raise the flag" for three years. At each table, there's a small Mexican flag, which the customer can raise to summon a server when he wants seconds or thirds, until he -- or his stomach -- says, "No mas."

When I think of Pancho's, I don't think of the outlet on Veterans in the defunct Rosedale Mall, or the one in Chalmette -- I think of the one on Gravier Street in the heart of the CBD. It opened in 1972 on the site of the old Morrison's Cafeteria.

Pancho's on Gravier had a mystical atmosphere, a fantasy ambiance that no Pancho's ever will top. Yes, I know it's hard to believe ambiance and Pancho's are in the same sentence -- many would say those two words would be ingredients for the perfect oxymoron.

But walking into that building was like walking into a Mexican courtyard or town square with stone archways and tiled roofs. Second-floor balconies with ironwork and windows with curtains loomed above the tables, causing you to imagine what was going on up there, even though you knew it was a facade.

Overhead was a faux night sky, laced with "stars" that seemed to twinkle.

You always had the feeling that Don Diego de la Vega was going to throw a rock at one of the windows and an alluring Lolita Pulido was going to appear. Was she being held captive? Would de la Vega be able to rescue her? Would he have to call on Zorro?

Or was he just shouting up his order: "Two chicken taquitos, three flautas, two chili rellenos, chips, guacamole and salsa, and a cold Corona!"

Sorry. Coronas weren't around back then. Make it a Dixie.

The irony was that the stone and ironwork, the tile roofs, the Moorish castle feeling, the cantina patio or town square effect -- everything that worked so well for Pancho's already was in place, if memory serves, when the space housed Morrison's.

Ain't dere no more, as Senor Benito Grunch would say, but the one on Labarre Road is. Buena suerte, Pancho's.